Thirst Series
by Vashti
Summary: Thirst (noun) - 2. an ardent desire (a strong desire for something); (verb) - 2. to crave vehemently and urgently. Or, Tony Stark didn't know how much he wanted a son of his own, until he found out he had one he didn't know. (Formerly "Long" and "Ache")
1. Long

**Title:** Long  
 **Author:** Vashti  
 **Fandom:** Iron Man (MCU)  
 **Character(s):** Tony Stark, Oz Osbourne  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Summary:** "That was Tony Stark." "From Stark Industries?" "Yes!" "Huh."  
 **Length:** ~490 words  
 **Disclaimer:** Only the words are mine, and that's probably up for philosophical debate.  
 **Notes:** AU of S2E9 "What's My Line". Written for the August 2017 Twisted Shorts FAD.

* * *

Oz looked around the room with its fancy food and fancy - he sniffed at a couple of the unmarked, open bottles - non-alcoholic drinks. He hadn't known that Sunnydale High was hiding such nice digs.

He twisted around to look at one of his escorts. Oz felt like he recognized him from somewhere, but couldn't place the large man. "This was always here?"

"Not so nice, but yeah. It's one of your teachers' lounges."

Oz's eyebrows rose. "One… Hmm." Well. Now he was obligated to stay and explore as a service to the larger student population.

* * *

Tony watched the video feed from his car. "That's him? You're sure."

"Yes, sir," JARVIS answered from the car's speaker system. "His records match the timeline."

"Yeah, yeah. I know that already." He slid a hand down his face. "The dates all match." He laughed. "The IQ matches."

Happy, his driver and bodyguard, came across the car's speaker system. "You alright back there, sir?" He was inside with the perspective early SI recruits. Not much need for an arms dealer to have his muscle in a podunk little town like SunnyNoWhere, CA. If there was something in this town he couldn't handle, he didn't deserve his weapons contracts and Tony deserved every single contract he had.

"Yeah. Sure. I'm fine. Just fine." Leaning forward, he snagged the bottle of fine scotch sitting on a drop-down tray just beyond his reach. He topped off the glass sitting by his left hand.

* * *

Movement caught Oz's eye so he turned from the buffet large enough to feed half the football team towards the door. A dark-haired man strolled into the room with a distinctly alcoholic looking drink in his hand.

"So this is all the talent this school has to offer?" he said to no one in particular. "I think I'm actually surprised."

Oz nodded - sort of nodded - and turned back to the food. The 'dale was always in need of new teachers, and the new teachers were always…interesting. Except for the nice suit and over-attention to his facial hair, this new guy wasn't anything Oz hadn't encountered before.

He felt the teacher slip in next to him, as if there was a line instead of only the two of them. "Hey," Oz said.

"Not much of a talker, huh?"

Oz shook his head, already enjoying the game. "Nah." He really wasn't much of a talker, but he could hold up a conversation when he needed. It was more interesting not to.

"But apparently you are a genius."

"I guess?"

The teacher frowned. "Don't you know why you're here?"

Oz shrugged, adding a shrimpy thing to his plate. "Nope."

"Aaand you don't care."

Oz shrugged again. "Food's good."

The teacher chuckled and rolled his eyes. "If I could remember my teen years, I'd probably remember being a walking stomach, too."

"...Huh?"

Oz hadn't gotten more than two canapes on his plate when the teacher said, "So. SI. You gonna join their internship program?"

"Dunno."

"You don't know."

Oz shrugged.

"It's SI. Stark Industries-"

"Oh."

"Oh?!" The teacher was clearly indignant. He'd been swirling his glass while talking to Oz, but now it was down on the table as he fiddled with his cufflinks. Surprisingly fancy cufflinks. "What does 'Oh' mean?"

"Didn't know what SI was." Oz glanced at the teacher. "Thanks. Now I know."

It was hard to tell in the dim room, but Oz was pretty sure the teacher was flushed. With anger? That seemed like a bit much.

"You didn't know why you were here. You didn't know what SI stood for. Why are you here, kid?"

Oz shrugged again. "Free lunch for a walking stomach?"

The teacher laughed and took a healthy drink from his glass. "So you gonna do it?" he asked when he brought the glass down. "Now that you know, are you gonna join Stark Industries internship program?"

Popping a canape in his mouth, Oz shrugged but said, "Probably not."

"Why?"

"Got things to do."

"What things?" the teacher pressed, clearly becoming agitated.

"Music things. School things. Hot Eskimo things."

"I'm sorry, did I hear you say 'hot Eskimo things'?"

Oz popped the second canape in his mouth and nodded.

"So you're just gonna eat their food, listen to their spiel and chase after hot Eskimos."

"Mmm, more or less."

The teacher's chin dropped to his chest as he laughed. "All of this and you don't even care." He lifted his glass towards Oz and toasted him before taking a drink. "Just like your old man." He turned on his heel and sauntered out the room.

Seconds later, the Eskimo girl wandered in nearly quivering with excitement. "Did you see who that was?!"

"The newest new teacher?"

"No! Although, omigod, can you imagine if he did? Buffy might actually stay awake in class." She bounced on her toes and Oz felt his face soften.

"Who was it?" he asked.

"That was Tony Stark. The Tony Stark!"

"From Stark Industries?"

"Yes!"

"Huh."

Fin[ite]


	2. Ache

**Title:** Ache  
 **Character(s):** Tony Stark, Oz Osbourne  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Summary:** He watched until he'd drained his tumbler twice. When he started crunching on an ice cube, he decided he'd been sitting long enough.  
 **Length:** ~495 words  
 **Disclaimer:** Only the words are mine, and that's probably up for philosophical debate.  
 **Notes:** Written for the August 2017 TwistedShorts FAD. Set pre-Iron Man.

* * *

Tony settled back in his very expensive lounger that had probably been made or designed or bedwet by someone famous or important or, at the very least, mildly scandalous. There was no point in having something so ugly and only mildly comfortable otherwise. He'd have to ask Pepper. She'd remember why he'd insisted on buying it.

The scotch in his hand was easier to figure out. It was old and smooth and had the useful ability to blur the edges of the world around him.

"Alright, JARVIS. Show me."

The massive plasma flatscreen bloomed into life.

"Start time's getting better, but let's work on shaving a few more seconds off, 'kay buddy?"

"Of course, Sir."

Tony sipped from his tumbler as familiar images flashed and moved, crawled and jumped, played and stared and made faces. Sometimes, when there was sound, Tony almost smiled. "The vocals are from your mother, but I am definitely the reason you have good taste in music," he murmured into his tumbler.

Occasionally documents floated onscreen, long enough for Tony to have read and memorized the old ones, long enough to pick out the particulars of the new ones. "Passes all his exams and fails all his classes. Most of his classes." Tony took a sip of scotch, eyes skipping over new docs with old information. "Dad would've had something to say about that," he said, chuckling darkly as the display changed. "Lucky for you, you missed out kid."

He watched until he'd drained his tumbler twice. When he started crunching on an ice cube, he decided he'd been sitting long enough.

Standing, Tony sucked another ice cube into his mouth and approached the screen. Rolling the slowly melting ice across the roof of his mouth, he touched the screen, touched what would have been a cheek, and felt the faint, slightly pliant warmth under his fingers. Under the pressure of his fingertips, the screen changed color, but it was nothing like flesh. It was nothing like skin. There were times, especially with the early pictures, when the itch he felt in his hands was the same one he got down in the shop. But he couldn't hold a picture and feel its warmth. He couldn't ruffle its hair. He couldn't mock it's t-shirt choices. Alright he could, but it wasn't the same. He couldn't rifle through his drawers and toss it a better one.

One of the new pictures flashed beneath his hand: him and the kid, last year at the school. Tony recognized the back of his own head. And there was his son's pale, completely unimpressed face. This nearly adult version of him took after his mother. But the face that smiled and laughed and oh so seriously banged meaty fists against a poor, defenseless guitar – Tony had seen that face every day for years on his mother's vanity.

"Goodnight, Danny."

Tony turned away from the screen. "Hey JARVIS, gimme an update on the holographic displays. What's the new projected timeline?"

Fin[ite]


	3. Dwell

**Title:** Dwell  
 **Character(s):** Tony Stark, the Osbournes, Oz Osbourne  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Length:** ~2,054 words  
 **Disclaimer:** Only the words are mine, and that's probably up for philosophical debate.  
 **Notes:** 3rd story in a series that wasn't always a series :)

* * *

Dwell

"Are you sure this is wise?" JARVIS asked again, speaking through the Bluetooth device in Tony's ear.

"Probably not." Tony tugged on the hem of his suit (which was sitting on him perfectly. It was bespoke. It cost a small fortune. Its sole purpose was to make him look awesome) and squared his shoulders. "But have I ever let a little thing like wisdom stop me before?"

"Never, sir."

Tony snorted. He wasn't always sure whether he should be annoyed or amused at his AI's snarky sense of humor. Usually he settled somewhere closer to amused. Today it was another distraction.

The home he stood in front of could have been found in nearly any Californian suburb. Nothing about it struck him in particular. Certainly it was far less interesting than his mansion in Malibu or the half-deserted family properties in New York. The bright sunshine overhead was blocked by a modest porch. Late season insects and the sound of children playing before dinner were the background noise to the litany chasing itself around Tony's head. Not that he actually knew what he was going to say, but, like wisdom, that hardly stopped his brain from going a mile a minute.

He turned suddenly and looked out on the street. The grass and walkway were still glistening from a late afternoon wash by the sprinkler system. The scent of warm wet earth and hot cement were surprisingly soothing. Tony took a deep breath, let it out, then turned and faced the wood and glass front door.

The door actually had a knocker, so he used it. "JARV," he said while he waited for someone to respond, or not, "do any of the properties still use and honest-to-God door knocker?"

"Only the mansion out on the Island, but a camera and remote locking system have been unobtrusively incorporated into the hardware and doorframe, respectively."

"Oh. Okay. Wonder what it'd take to get Susan to update."

"Perhaps you should start by asking her."

As if she had been waiting for her cue, the door opened and there was Susan, her red hair glowing even in the porch's shadow. Before Tony could say a word, she was stepping forward and pulling him into a tight embrace. By the time it occurred to him that he should break free, she had stepped back. "Good, you're in time for dinner."

Tony gaped at the woman standing half a head below him. "Wha—"

"I told Rich you'd get here before the show."

This time he only got as far as gaping before Susan shocked him again by pulling him inside. "Wha—"

Susan frowned at him. "You said that already, Tony. Come into the kitchen. Rich was finishing dinner when you rang the bell. Maybe you need some water. Why are you wearing a three-piece suit? I know it's November, but this is still Southern California. That's a lot of layers."

"Oh my God, Susan! Have you changed at all?"

"Don't think so. Come on." She pirouetted and led him toward the rear of the house. They passed through a comfortable living room that may or may not have seen neater days. There were pictures on nearly every surface: desert sunsets, ocean curls, a surfer riding a tube, forests at dusk, children sleeping in puppy piles, black-and-whites of stages set up for a band, a theater stage empty save its ghost light, posed family shots, silly family shots, casual photos, grainy group photos, cheesy graduation pictures with and without full sets of teeth, obligatory school photos.

When Susan noticed that Tony had stopped to look at an entire section of wall beside a small piano dedicated to these, she came back to him. "I pulled a bunch together for you, in case you wanted them."

"I have. I mean…I mean I do," he corrected himself as he tore his eyes away to look down into her blue eyes. They were as bright and clear as he remembered. "I was able to find some of them, but here a bunch here I don't recognize."

"No problem. And if you stick around or come back, you can have more."

"Pictures?"

Susan shrugged. "Sure. Why not."

Taking a step back from the wall, and from Susan, Tony shook his head. He plucked his sunglasses from his face with one hand and scrubbed his face with the other. "Why didn't you ever tell me, Sue."

"We had a…two-night stand? And when, after you had been avoiding me for a week, it turned out that I wasn't going to be clingy or needy or writing programs that put our names together surrounded by digital hearts, you were the most happy human I've ever met? Let's not rehash the very loud discussions you and Tomeo and Pajovic and, and…ugh what was that guy's name…" Susan's mile-a-minute ramble paused while she tried to remember. Before Tony could regroup she was waving a hand and moving on. "You guys used to go on and on about how much of a waste families and babies and children were on mental ability and physical resources. You were going to build robots and leave all the messy people and their problems behind."

"I was nineteen years old, Sue!"

"So was I, Tony," she said with a shrug. "But you already had two more degrees than I did, and you were in the middle of working on a third. What was I supposed to think your thoughts would be about me having your kid."

"Sue—"

She held up both hands. "Tony, I'm not saying I was right."

"It's been almost twenty years."

"And in that time you haven't exactly been living a life that says you've changed your mind about families and babies. Or children and teenagers. Or responsibility in general."

"Did you want to get married or something?"

"To you?" Susan laughed. Not at him, he thought, but at the very idea. "Do you see yourself ever getting married, Tony?"

"Well, no not really but—"

"Tony, it's fine."

"It's not fine! I had a right to know. We both did!"

A dark-haired man, taller than Tony with pale, washed out eyes appeared behind Susan. In one hand he held an open beer, and in the other he had a plate full of pigs-in-a-blanket. "Sue, let the man sit down and eat. We don't have a lot of time before the show starts," he said, bumping her gently. When she leaned up to kiss him, he leaned down to meet her.

"Sorry, Tony," Susan said as she turned toward the kitchen.

The man approached, holding out the beer for Tony to take. "Rich."

"I figured. And I don't like to be handed things."

Rich set the beer and plate of finger foods down on the piano, closer to Tony than to himself. "Oz knows, by the way. He's always known."

"He— That doesn't make me feel better, you know."

Rich nodded, but didn't otherwise reply.

"So how long have you been in the picture?"

"There when he was born. Married when he was three."

Tony noticed that they were about the same height, although Rich's build was more wiry than his. "And you play the happy family man?"

A small smile pulled at Rich's features. "I play a six-string. I play piano. That's it."

"Man of a few words, aren't you," Tony said before picking up and taking a swig of the beer on the piano.

The smile on Rich's face never moved. "Yup."

"So you're a good for nothing musician?"

Tony would have thought that he'd finally gotten to the man when Rich turned on his heel and started walking away, except he indicated that Tony should follow him.

"Sit there, Tony," Susan said as both men approached the small kitchen table. Assuming the window bench held two, there was space for five, but only enough place settings for the three of them. Full plates and glasses were already at each setting.

"I'm a very picky eater," Tony said without bothering to look at what was actually on the white dinner plates.

Susan laughed. "I remember. I'm pretty sure I've got you covered. Sit down, Tony. Even if you don't eat anything, we should still talk."

Frowning, he reluctantly eyed his options. The window seat would give him a view of the whole room, but also hem him in if/when he got tired of whatever Susan was about to tell him, and decided that he needed to leave. The head of the table would be ideal. And rude.

Tony sat at the head of the table. He didn't miss the look that passed between the pair as Susan and Rich seating themselves around him – Rich with his back to the house at large, and Susan in the window seat.

"Is this New York style pizza?"

* * *

"Happy, change of plans," Tony said as he slid into the backseat of his car.

"Sure thing. Whatever you want, Boss," he said, watching as Tony divested himself of suit and tie. "What're we doing?"

"I don't know what you're doing, but I'm going to go watch my son's band play at the local teeny-bopper bar."

Happy frowned. "Uh, is that wise, Boss?"

"Why is everyone always asking me that? And where did you hide my other clothes?" Tony groused as he rummaged around the immaculate, and empty, backseat. "No way I'm gonna be that guy."

Happy placed a bag on the divider arm rest between the seats. "Whatever you say, Boss."

* * *

Tony leaned over to Rich. "They're not horrible," he shouted directly into the other man's ear.

Rich laughed. With his chin, he indicated that Tony should pay attention to the band onstage.

The lead singer, some kid with a D-name, was leaning over his mic, crooning to the girls below the stage. Who were mostly falling for it. Oz, playing bass in the background, didn't seem to notice.

"Are we sure that one's my kid?"

Rich laughed harder. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wallet. Without looking, he flipped it open and shoved it in the general direction of Tony's face.

Who stepped back so he could _see_ the thing. It was a picture of Oz, more recent than not. He'd apparently decided to try facial hair. He'd started with a mustache and goatee. It wasn't a lot of hair but—

Tony swore. "Fine! Whatever! Never mind!"

Rich flipped the wallet closed then put it away.

* * *

"Hey, man, sorry for not recognizing you before," Oz said as he stood before Tony and Rich. His body language was calm and relaxed.

Arms crossed over his chest, Tony shook his head. "Not a problem."

"Computers aren't really my thing and-"

"Computers aren't your thing?" Tony nearly spluttered. "You and that Rosa-chick have test scores that are through the roof."

"Willow. Yeah. She's smart. You should hire her."

Frowning, Tony looked from Oz to Rich and back again. "You definitely didn't get your robust and verbose language skills from either me or your mother."

Oz and Rich both chuckled.

"See."

"Hey, it's cool Mr. Stark—"

"Call me Tony. I insist."

"Sure. Yeah, that's cool."

Tony scratched the back of his neck. "I, uh, just gotta say that, y'know, while I think your mom keeping _me_ in the dark all this time is really, really….you know." He couldn't bring himself to say what he really felt about Susan's decision, not while staring into her son's eyes while her husband stood right there. "But I'm glad I didn't raise you, kid. I woulda screwed you up, big time. But your parents seem to have done, y'know, a pretty decent job."

"I think so. You woulda been okay, though."

Tony laughed around the pressure in his chest. Oz and Rich smiled. "Look, kid," Tony said, "if you ever need anything, like, seriously, anything at all, you can always reach out to me."

"Yeah. Ditto."

Tony's eyebrows climbed. "Um, hello. Genius billionaire here. When'm I ever gonna need something from a teenager?"

Oz shrugged. "You never know."

"Ye-ah. So. Bass guitar?"

For the first time since their initial meeting, Oz's eyes lit up. "Yeah. You, uh, wanna see? You could meet the guys. Devon might actually know who you are."

Tony snorted. "Sure, yeah. Yeah, let's do this."

Fin[ite]


	4. Envy

**Title:** Envy  
 **Character(s):** Tony Stark, Oz  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Summary:** Tony knew that trying to pin negativity on Oz was usually like trying to find the edge on a bowling ball, so why is the kid practically bleeding it out over the phone?  
 **Length:** ~1,950 words  
 **Notes:** written in anticipation of the FAD. This has been kicking around in my head for a while, and I wanted to get it out before August. Finished it the day before, then forgot to post. It still hasn't been beta-read. And the timelines are kinda crazy. Sorry!

* * *

The music pounding through Tony's lab lowered. "Sir, your son is on the line."

"Cool. Put'im through, JARV."

"Of course, sir." The music lowered further.

"Hey, Oz! What's up, kid?" Tony said as studied the schematics for a small scale arc reactor "floating" in front him.

The arc reactor wasn't his baby. The floating, holographic, biometric projector which he was using to manipulate the arc reactor blueprints was his baby. The arc reactor was a side project being handled by one of the Stark research and development team that consulted with Tony as often as Pepper could trick him into visiting their lab. That didn't mean he wasn't , a little, impressed. They'd gotten the arc reactor down from the size of a small McMansion to the size of a small house. At least in theory. They'd need to run a few more simulations before they could build a prototype and test it in the real world. At least that's what Tony had said to the eager beaver researchers. That was until Pepper had given him a very distinct Look seconds before he was going to ask her for a pen so he could approve a budget for building.

The woman was uncanny.

"Dingoes gonna be in the area this weekend? I can avoid making any hot dates with a gorgeous models if you're coming to town," he said, still playing with the biometric holograms. "JARVIS, what's—"

"Tony."

"Yeah, kid."

"I need your help."

Tony stilled. He stared into midair as if he could see his son. The music that had been playing in the background – Rollins Band – stopped entirely.

Sometimes Oz asked Tony for advice. Often Tony gave Oz unsolicited advice. Oz never asked Tony for _things_. He had an actual honest-to-God dad for everyday needs (nowhere near as brilliant as Tony, of course, but smart enough) and both he and Rich Osbourne were too laid back to want or need much.

It had been a couple of years since Tony had discovered that he'd not only knocked up a fellow MIT classmate, but that she'd actually gone and had the kid. Since then, he and Oz (really Daniel, but the kid liked to be called Oz, so…) had developed a relationship that revolved around an appreciation for good music, a toleration of overinflated egos (Oz tolerating both Tony's and his lead singer's), their combined brilliance (which, although he'd never admit it, never failed to surprise Tony), and unending appetites for really good food that was really bad for you. Tony kept promising to scoop Oz up and fly him out to New York for an actual slice of New York pizza. Oz kept nodding and practicing chords, or dying his hair, or painting his nails, or doing whatever counter-cultural things most kids did to annoy their parents. That all three of his parents were totally copacetic, if not actually encouraging, didn't seem to bother the him one way or the other.

"Tony, are you still there?"

Something else Oz never did: break the silence first. Tony had never met anyone so self-possessed and assured of themselves. Like, for real totally okay with who they were and not a front for all their secret insecurities. Oz had them. He'd discussed them frankly with Tony if/when they came up, but he was more cool than not with them. Tony wouldn't admit it, not in front a firing squad equipped with weapons from his own locker, but he envied the way his son was comfortable in his own skin. If Howard Stark had spent more time with his baby boy instead of his bad babies, could Tony have had that, too? Or was Oz a unique product of the genetic soup of two hyperactively brilliant minds finally coming to rest. Was something magical about Rich Osbourne?

"Tony—"

"I'm still here, kid. What's up? What do you need?"

Third strike: Oz also always understood Tony's moods better than Tony did, and was better at sussing them out than Tony was at hiding them. Tony was pretty sure his mild panic was painful obvious to a six year old. Oz said, "I need a ticket to Tibet."

Tony drew back, face tightening in confusion. "Did you just say you needed a ticket to Tibet? None of my boarding schools ever offered exotic Asian nations as places to study abroad."

"It's not study abroad, Tony. I mean, I guess sort of. You could look at it that way."

The hair on Tony's arms stood up as tension twisted his gut. Oz didn't babble. Oz didn't do confused, even when he was. He certainly didn't do distressed. Trying to pin negativity on Oz was like trying to find the edge on a bowling ball.

"Kid. What's wrong?"

"If you can't help me, that's okay. I'll figure something out."

Which had Tony blinking, then scowling, then saying, "What about your parents? Why can't they fund this joyride to Sunny Tibet."

"It's not a joyride!" Oz snarled.

Tony's eyes widened. "Was…was that…? Did you just growl at me?" And although it hadn't been a growl (see "snarl") there was now a low, menacing motor sound that definitely was. "Are you _currently_ growling at me?"

"Forget I asked!"

"Oz!" Tony snapped, eyes wide from the electric fear that zinged through him. "Oz, Oz, Oz… Hang on, buddy. You know your old man's a jerk."

Oz sighed, and it sounded like someone had cut his strings. Tony's chest tightened and his arms prickled. He wanted to be there, wherever Oz was, so he could touch him and prove that he was still real. Maybe to prove this was actually a sleep-deprivation and alcohol-fueled dream he was having. He'd wake up, tell Oz all about it, and get that half-smirk and breathy laugh that seemed to be the only outward sign that he was actually Tony's kid.

"I shouldn't have bothered you, Tony. I'm sorry."

"Hey, hey! I told you that you could come to me for anything. And if you can't come to _me_ for lots of money to throw at a really reckless problem, who can you go to?"

"It's kind of a long story. Or a really short one."

"I make my own hours, kid. And now I'm curious. Talk to me."

Oz cleared his throat but said nothing for a long moment. Then, "I, uh, I'm kind of…I'm kind of a werewolf?"

Tony felt his eyebrows climb up to his hairline and then try to go further back. "Run that by me again, kid?"

"I'm a werewolf?"

"You Late Late Late Saturday monster movie fest werewolf? Or _An American Werewolf in Paris_ werewolf? Or everyone's favorite 80's movie, _Teen Wolf_ werewolf?"

"Late Late Late Saturday monster movie fest werewolf." Oz's voice was somewhere between amusement and embarrassment, which Tony would have enjoyed more if his joy wasn't on the proverbial floor.

"That's not a good look, kid."

"Our special effect budget was tight last year?"

 _"_ _This has been going on for a whole year?"_ Anger Tony hadn't known was bubbling in his chest raged through him. Because if Oz was joking, he would have given the punchline long before now. "How the hell did this happen and why didn't anyone tell me?"

Apparently properly chastised by his least parental parent, Oz told him the admittedly brief tale: babysitting for family, an overly bitey little cousin, and a new affinity for the moon.

"Did your mom know lycanthropy ran in the family when she married Rich?"

"I dunno. Maybe. Didn't think to ask."

It took epic force of will for Tony to reign in the thundercloud of anger swirling through him. He wasn't Howard Stark. Oz knew nothing about his paternal grandfather. He didn't need his first introduction to come in Surround Sound.

"Okay. Okay. So I guess that's a done deal and you're handling it."

"I thought I was."

"You thought… So this is where Tibet comes in?"

"Yeah." Then Oz told him the other half of the story. A girlfriend, an actual bitchy rival, and a dominance fight that ended with the female werewolf dead, and Oz questioning everything he knew about himself and his control.

"Okay."

"So based on my research, if I can get to Ti—"

"I already said okay, kid."

"Wait…I'm sorry…what?"

"I'll fund the trip to Tibet." Tony scrubbed his hands over his face.

"You will?" It was clear Oz thought he was begin set up.

"Kid, I told you a long time ago that if you ever needed anything, you should let me know. You need this. You came to me. Here's me, helping you."

Oz took a shuddering breath on the other end of the line.

"Didn't think I'd do it?"

"Couldn't be sure."

Tony shrugged, though Oz couldn't see it. "Yeah, well, you know how I like to be unpredictable."

"Yeah."

An uncomfortable silence descended between them for a moment, before Tony thought to ask when Oz wanted to leave. "As soon as possible," he said.

Nodding, Tony said, "JARVIS, get on that, will you."

"Of course, sir."

Oz let out a gusty breath. "Thanks, Tony."

"Uh…" Tony looked down at his, for once, clean hands. "So there's kind of a condition of all this generosity."

"Buffy will break you."

A bark of surprised laughter broke out of Tony. "How about she's underage?"

"That's never stopped you from asking before."

"Good point, kid. And that's all I ever did: ask. No, this is serious."

"Yeah?"

"You gotta tell your folks." Another uncomfortable silence descended, into which Tony said, "I take it that means you haven't already."

"Yeah. I mean, no." The guilt carried over the phone lines clearly. "I don't want..."

"You think they'll love you less or something?"

"Or something."

Tony sighed. He hated having to be the grownup. That was usually Pepper's job. "Look, kid, you've got really great parents, present company not included. I mean, seriously? I make a better cool uncle any day. Which is not the point. Your parents don't deserve to wonder what happened to their kid. They already know you're a werewolf?"

He left it as a question and was relieved when Oz said, "Yeah."

"Then they know that it's dangerous to be you. From what you told me, you were defending your girl, Willow, and if you hadn't then she'd probably be dead and this Veruca chick would be guilting you into thinking it was your fault."

There was more silence, but it was thoughtful instead of uncomfortable. Eventually, Oz very quietly said, "I don't know how to talk to them about this."

"I wish I had better advice for you. My old man and I never figured out how to talk like civilized people. We could compete, we could snipe, we could yell, we could give a cold shoulder that would make a polar bear wince, but conversation never really worked for us. But you, kid. You can talk to your parents about anything." Tony sighed. "I kinda envy that. Though if you ever tell anyone I said so, I'll deny it."

Oz chuckled. "Got it."

"So have your folks call me after you talk it out, and I'll give them the flight arrangements."

"Don't trust me?" Tony could hear the raised eyebrow.

"With my genes running around inside you somewhere? Yeah, no."

Oz chuckled again. "Thank you, Tony. I really—"

"Ugh! Enough with the mush. Did you hear the part where I said I don't do this serious conversation thing? Talk to the 'rents, kid. I'll be here when you get back."

"I know." And the line went dead.

Tony stared at the empty air, the implicit faith of those two words – _I know_ – resonating in his chest.

Fin[ite]


	5. Withholding Nothing

**Title:** Withholding Nothing  
 **Character(s):** Tony Stark, Keldan Osbourne, Bayarmaa Osbourne, Pepper Potts, James Rhodes, Oz Osbourne  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Summary:** The first person Tony sees when he wakes up in a military hospital stateside is the last person he ever expect.  
 **Length:** ~2,715 words  
 **Notes:** written for the 2018 August FAD. I've reviewed and edited it for clarity and readability, but the content is largely unchanged. Please note, however, that I am my beta. If you see something that needs fixing, please note it in the comments.

* * *

Tony hadn't felt a weight on his chest like this since before he and Yinsin had converted the magnet in his chest into a miniature arc reactor. Was he dreaming? Or had the escape from the cave been an elaborate, horrible dream and Yinsin was still—

"Yinsin!"

The weight dropped off his chest and landed on across his thighs as Tony shot up.

"What the hell!"

It wasn't a car battery crushing Tony's chest. It was a kid. A little kid. A little kid with large, warm liquid brown eyes, a serious tan, and hair that was a shade of brown he'd never seen before under a red and gold knit cap.

The kid, apparently over the shock of being dumped and yelled over, frowned up at Tony. "Ow."

Tony frowned right back. "I'm sorry, were you tortured and held prisoner in a desert cave for God knows how long?"

He regretted the words almost as soon as he began to say them. Not because he was worried about offending the kid. Tony was all but certain that his father had been telling him war stories from the womb.

Saying the words out loud had dispelled the last of his sleep-fueled fog, bridging the connection between what he knew and what he remembered,. It wasn't a dream. Tony had escaped. Yinsin was dead.

He swore.

"Bad words!" The kid in his lap gave him a laser-focused, narrow-eyed stare. Someday, it would be intimidating. Not today.

Tony leveled the same stare at the kid. "I'll say whatever I f—"

"Anthony Edward Stark, don't you dare swear at your grandson."

Tony's head shot up at the unexpected woman's voice. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment then opened them. "Bayarmaa? Bay?"

The woman smiled at him. He'd only ever seen her via web-camera, but he knew that bright smile against richly tanned skin, even if it had been a while. "What are you—Grandson?!" Tony's head snapped back to the kid, still sitting in his lap and still giving him the world's tiniest death glare. It might have been cute if he weren't so serious. And if both his parents weren't werewolves.

"You've been out of touch, Tony."

"Yeah. I can see it. How old is…"

"Kelden. He's two-and-a-half. We did email you."

Tony's mouth opened in wonder. "I think Pepper mentioned it."

"I'm sure she did," Bay said as she approached the pair. She was smirking, watching grandfather and grandson stare at each other.

Wonder still marked Tony's face, and Kelden's expression had turned curious and suspicious in response. Until he noticed his mother. Then he broke into a bright sunny smile that made Tony's heart ache in a way it hadn't in years.

Bay picked up her son. "Why were you troubling your grandfather? He is still healing."

As if she had broken a spell, aches and bone-deep weariness suddenly and forcefully made themselves known to Tony. Parts of him felt like they were on fire and others were worryingly numb. "I feel like I've been shot out of a rocket."

Eyeing him sympathetically, Bay nodded. "From what I understand, you were."

"You don't pull any punches, do you, kid?"

Bay smiled warmly, as if he'd just paid her a thoughtful compliment. "None." Then, with her free hand, she gently pushed at Tony's nearest shoulder. "Go back to sleep, Tony."

"I'm not tired." He was dog tired.

"Maybe not, but you are in pain." It didn't take much for her to get Tony horizontal again. "We'll go get the others."

"Others?" Despite himself, Tony felt himself slipping away. He clutched at wakefulness, not wanting to fall back into muddy memories.

"Pepper and Rhodes—"

"You never call him Rhodey. Why is that?"

"—and Oz, of course."

Wakefulness sparked at that. "Oz is here?"

Eyebrow quirking up in what was a familiar gesture, Bayarmaa said, "Did you really think your son would send his family to the States to meet you and not come himself?"

"When you say it like that…"

Bay leaned over a placed a soft kiss on Tony's forehead. He was surprised to feel a wetter, more forceful kiss on its heels.

"I have a grandson." Tony couldn't stop staring at the kid.

Bay's voice was kind when she said, "Oz thought you might like that, when you finally pulled your head out of your rear."

"No sympathy," Tony said, eyes rolling up to meet Bay's.

"None. We'll be back."

* * *

Familiar warm brown eyes were inches from his when Tony woke again, some unknown time later. He frowned.

The little face frowned right back.

"You again," Tony groused, without really meaning it.

"'Gain," the little boy agreed.

"You really are your mother's kid."

"He certainly is," an amused Peppers Potts agreed from her seat beside the bed. "At least from what I've seen these last few months."

"Pep..." Tony breathed, before recovering himself. "Pepper. You, uh, you look good." It was all he could do to not reach out and touch her.

An incredulous smirk tugging at her lips, Pepper glanced down at herself and Tony noticed for the first time that she was wearing a set of old Air Force BDU's. "I'm not sure you're awake yet, Tony."

"No, no, blue fatigue is really you. Especially in last decade's patten."

Pepper chuckled, but it quickly turned wet. She sniffed and swiped at her eyes.

The kid, Kevin or Kelvin or something, had already been looking at Pepper because she'd laughed. Now he reached for her. "Pepper o-kay?"

"Hey, that's my line kid. But, he's got a point. Pepper o-kay?" Tony said in a near perfect imitation of the boy sitting on his bed.

With a smile that was probably more watery than intended, Pepper nodded. "We got you home, Tony. Okay, not exactly home but, it's closer than—"

"Wait, what are you doing here?" Tony asked. As unexpected as it was to wake up to see his daughter-in-law and grandson, Pepper was almost the last person he expected to see. "I told Rhodey to keep you away." They'd had the conversation on the transport plane from Afghanistan.

Pepper's face instantly flushed. "I know! He told me!"

"Hey! I was trying to protect you. Ow!" Tony glared at the kid as he rubbed the spot on his chest where he'd been poked by bony toddler fingers. "What happened to leave granddad alone — he's still recuperating."

"Yell not nice!"

Tony glared at the kid some more, only to be met with one of equal obstinance. "Butt out, kid."

"Considering…" Pepper said, as she smoothly rose out of her chair, scooped up the toddler, and sat down again with the boy in her lap, "…that if not for your son, Oz, I wouldn't be here, I think I'm on Kelden's side."

"You say that like I've got some other kid out there who usually takes my side."

Pepper didn't take the bait, reminding Tony why he liked his personal assistant and why she sometimes infuriated him. Even Rhodey would have gone for a potshot that easy in an argument.

"Why did you tell Colonel Rhodes not to let me come see you while you're in the military hospital?"

Tony sighed, acknowledging to himself how much he hurt. Grouchy as the kid made him, at least his grandson distracted him from...everything. "Pep, I look like sh-

"Wow, that is some death glare," he said instead of finishing his sentence.

"What debt glare?" Kelden asked them.

"Later kid," Tony said, which had the kid leveling one him, too. "That's cute. Try it again when you're twenty. Maybe I'll actually be scared."

"Tony!"

"What?! It's good advice! All he's doing now is making me wish I had a Polaroid. I'm sunburned, malnourished, dehydrated, I'm shot full of everything but lead, I'm sure something's broken, plus a half dozen other issues these Air Force docs don't wanna tell me about, and all I wanna do is snap off a bunch of Polaroid pictures. Ow." Somewhere in the middle of Tony's rant, he'd started to laugh.

"I probably shouldn't do that," he said, actively trying to contain his mirth.

Pepper reached around the little boy in her arms to touch Tony's hand. "You probably shouldn't, because you do look like you've been run over by a Mac truck-"

"Gee, thanks, Pep."

"But you have no idea how much I've missed your less than appropriate humor."

Tony's eyebrows shot up. "Really? So-"

"Notice how I said 'less than appropriate' and not 'inappropriate'."

Tony smirked. "Can't blame me for trying."

Pepper gripped the hand under her and squeezed. "It wouldn't be you if you didn't try."

Leaning forward as far as he could from her lap, Kelden put his little hand on Pepper's arm as near to Tony as he could get. "Try."

There was a curious stinging in Tony's eyes. "Well hell."

* * *

Instead of waking up to a creepy toddler, it was loud, overdramatic airplane sounds that pulled Tony from unconsciousness.

And high-pitched giggles. Apparently the kid was never far away.

Tony tried to lever himself up on his elbows to better berate his best friend. Instead he was distracted by the feeling of muscle and skin pull uncomfortably across his chest. "Ow." He flopped back onto the hospital bed. "More ow. Godd-"

"Junior pilots in the room, Tony," Rhodey said, eyeing him around the little boy he was holding aloft.

Tony snorted (not without some pain). "I remember when you were a junior pilot. You could make a sailor blush."

"Then I guess it's lucky we're on an Air Force base, where your grandson won't run into any sailors," Rhodey said as he did imaginary strafing runs with the kid. Who seemed to be liking it, if the toothy grin and non-stop giggles were any indication.

"That was a good night, Rhodey, and you know it."

Tony's friend didn't deny it. He might have even had a grin to match the kid's, but it was hard to tell when he kept twisting and twirling and lifting and dipping the little boy.

"Dude. You're making me nauseous."

"Tony, c'mon, man. Me and Kelden are just having fun." Rhodey made more of those exaggerated airplane sounds. And spinning. He kept spinning.

Sweat broke out across Tony's forehead and upper lip. He covered his eyes with his free hand. "At least push a bed pan closer."

With an expertise that Tony might have admired (or mocked) in other circumstances, Rhodey had Kelden secure on one hip and a bedpan under Tony gasping mouth in moments. He didn't throw up, but Tony's vitals were sufficiently distressed to get a nurse's attention.

The young man hardly spared Rhodey a glance as he reviewed the machines, before approaching Tony himself. He spoke to both of them, though, when he said, "Anything actually come up?"

"No," came from Rhodey and Kelden.

"I wish," came from Tony.

The nurse took the wrist of Tony's free hand and began manually checking his pulse. "Just nausea then?"

Tony, eyes closed, nodded tightly. "Think so."

The young man nodded to himself. "Okay. I'm going to get some anti-nausea medication and add it to your drip," the nurse said as he placed Tony's hand back on the bed. "You're cleared for that."

"Great."

"Tony…" Rhodey said as the nurse left. His warning tone had him cracking an eyelid to see the face he was making. Instead of the judgement he was expecting, and was used to seeing, Rhodey looked distressed. Kelden was lying along his shoulder, thumb of one hand stuck in his mouth and the other clutching Rhodey in his tiny golden fists.

Tony nodded, or tried to. "Yeah, sorry man."

Rhodey nodded in return. "S'okay." He put the bed pan down, then started rocking Kelden.

Tony might have tried for that bad joke about being a natural born mother hen, but another wave of nausea rolled over him. He closed his eyes just as Rhodey brought the bed pan back.

It felt like longer, but the nurse returned within a few minutes with Tony's anti-nausea meds. "Sir," the young man said, probably addressing Rhodey, "I'm going to have to ask you and the child to leave. Dr. Mann wanted us to let her know when he was fully awake to—"

"I understand," Rhodey said quickly. Tony knew he was no stranger to military hospitals. "Have someone let us know when it's okay to come back." Tony heard him hand the bed pan off to the nurse.

Almost before the words were out of Rhodey's mouth, Tony heard more people – and possibly more equipment – approaching his room. "Yes, sir, we will," the young man said, effectively dismissing Rhodey and Kelden. His friend had told him before that it was a weird feeling, being dismissed by a junior officer who, because of their medical training, had more authority than you did. Lots of officers tried to fight it, but he had quickly learned from experience and observation that things went better for people who respected their medics, no matter the difference in rank.

Rhodey came close. With Kelden still in his arms, he crouched by the bed so that they were all approximately at eye-level with each other. Or at least that's what it sounded like when Rhodey began to speak. "They've got good people here, Tony. Try not to cause too much trouble, okay?"

"Yeah. Sure."

"Okay, brother."

Then he stood up to leave. Over the rush of medical stuff descending on him, Tony heard Kelden say, "Gran'da 'kay?"

"Yeah, buddy. Your grandpa's gonna be okay."

* * *

Eventually there weren't any more fluids, blood or otherwise, that Tony could spare for Lieutenant Colonel Doctor Amy Mann and her tests. He'd been poked, prodded, stuck, drained, questioned, mmhmmed, aha'ed, hmmed and raise-eyebrowed past the point of self-preservation all the way into exhausted whining. At some point, Pepper had shown up to go to bat for him, even though Tony wasn't technically allowed visitors yet. Sometime after, Bayarmaa had come in to relieve Pepper. Tony had fallen asleep again to the sweet sounds of his daughter-in-law not-pull any punches on someone other than himself for once.

The nurse who had taken his pulse was hovering over the bed when Tony woke again, some time later.

"Mr. Stark, how are you feeling tonight?"

"Like a test subject for a mad scientist," Tony groused, not meaning a word. Dr. Mann had been thorough, but she and her team had managed to be both kind and clinical.

The young man smiled. "Dr. Mann said you were a beast."

With a pleased smile that hinted at lechery, Tony asked, "Were her exact words 'sexy beast'?"

"Little ears, Tony."

Who startled. "Oz?"

The nurse stepped aside so Tony could see his son…and his grandson asleep in his lap. The nurse quickly took in the scene and quietly excused himself from the room.

"Oz," Tony said again. "You're here."

"Of course I'm here." Oz stood, slinging Kelden over his shoulder in a practiced move as he did. He pushed the hospital chair into the space where the nurse had stood to take his readings.

"Why?"

Oz sat down in the chair. "We've been part of the search party since you were reported missing. Me and Bay and Mom and Dad. Mom says hey, by the way. Dad did more of a…" Oz jerked his chin up in a gesture of acknowledgment, his face pleasantly neutral.

Tony's heart fluttered painfully in his chest. Even the machines picked up on it. "Why? I haven't talked to you in three years."

Oz's lips ticked upwards in amusement of all things. "Wasn't sure you noticed."

"Bay pointed it out."

Which got an actual chuckled out of his son.

"I've been a sh—" Tony caught himself. Kelden might be asleep, but he'd already had three different adults curb his language around the kid. And the adult sitting beside him now… "I suck as a dad, kid."

Oz shrugged. "I've got a dad. I don't need another one. But you're the only Tony I have. I'm not looking for a replacement."

"They don't make'em like me, kid," Tony said with a bravado he didn't feel.

Holding Kelden tight, Oz reached over and gripped his father's free hand. "I know."

Fin[ite]


End file.
